


HellBentOver

by someawkwardwhitebech



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Attempted Kidnapping, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Clint Barton & Loki Friendship, Gun Violence, Hurt, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Kidnapping, Loki & Peter Parker Friendship, Loki & Thor Friendship (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Avengers, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Thor (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Psychological Torture, Torture, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someawkwardwhitebech/pseuds/someawkwardwhitebech
Summary: Lokes gets kidnapped by someone who lost their home, their family, their everything...And the only thing running through his mind was 'How could I?'Time set three years after the Battle on New York with the Chitauri. Location set in New York, just a couple blocks from the Stark Tower where the Avengers are staying.Also movie spoilers, I guess. Who cares tbh?





	1. Stolen Treasure

The dull pain and agony etched into his gut brought him from his restless thoughts.

He sat upright in the chair, digging the freshly sharpened blade further into his gut.

He groaned and glanced down, eyes blearily watching the blade get soaked with his blood.

The man kept shouting and screaming at him.

"You took her from me-"

Another sharp jab deep in his gut.

"You destroyed my home!"

Another deep slice digging deeper than the first two.

"You took my wife and kids from me!"

The knife dug even further, nearly slicing through his spine.

He coughed up blood, the heavy and thick, metallic substance dribbling down his nose and chin.

The crimson color shone on the knife had nearly made him wince.

He'd been tortured worst before.

"-killed them all! My co-workers, my fucking boss. You completely destroyed my home city of beautiful New York! How can y-"

Loki listened to the ranting until he'd had enough before passing out in the chair once more.

The adrenaline was not there, he did not want to defend his life from this mortal.

He would not have minded dying one more time if it made this hysterical mortal shut up and be peacefully happy with his vengeance.

But Loki knew vengeance wouldn't help this guy any.

A harsh warmth echoed across his cheek, startling him back to reality.

"How dare you pass out! You're going to feel it all, you worthless bitch! All the pain and suffering you put-"

Loki yawned, nearly laughing at the look of stricken fury across the mortal's face.

The man turned from fury to pure intimidation and joy, laughing it all off as if he wasn't just offended.

"I'll make sure the Avengers see my good deeds. I'll be sure to send them as many pictures as possible."

This made the God pause and stare at the man with pure interest and curiosity.

"And what makes you think that they'll care?"

The Gods voice was raspy but he still sneered at that male, "They won't congratulate you, only put you in the same category I _used_ to be in. An insane asylum, yes?"

The mortal man glared harder, trying to appear buff, strong, and maniacally intimidating.

It never worked on Loki, he seemed to be able to simply smile in response.

The blade was pulled out of his skin with a sickening squelch.

The mortal flashed a sadistic smile, pushing the blade into the fire burning in a barrel that the God hadn't noticed until now.

"I heard your an Ice giant... An alien of freezing cold temperature. Has anyone ever hit you with fire?"

The God snorted, "Mortal, how else do you think I was punished in my homelands?"

The mortal stared in shock before trying to cover it up with another maniacal laugh.

"It will do nothing, but go ahead. I presume you think it will do more harm than necessary."

The man sneered and pulled it's seething blood red blade from the embers.

"Oh, it'll do for an hour."


	2. Videography

The scalding hot knife piercing several veins of his forearms.

He was blindfolded with a red bandana, gagged with a ball of metallic spikes that cut deep into his mouth the more he bit down on it.

His screams stayed muffled, if they even passed the barricade he created in his throat.

The burning heat slashed open, a long line from wrist to elbow, on the palm side up of his arm.

Blood, red, hot, and dripping everywhere, slid down his arms and coated the armchair's wooden pieces.

He bit down hard on the gag, impaling the roof of his mouth and scratching his tongue into small tattered pieces with each cut and slash to his arms, legs, chest, neck, _anywhere and everywhere_.

The smell of smoke from his burning clothes where the maniacal man had sliced him soon reached his senses, and he could barely even smell the sense of gasoline being spread around his chair.

He heard the scraping of the barrel as it was dragged over.

He heard the beeping of a camcorder, possibly pointed at him and capturing his muffled screams and unhuman screeching.

His throat was raw and sore and he gurgled on his own blood, sputtering and choking openly around the gag.

Loki's arms and legs twitched every so often.

He knew he wouldn't die, but the excruciating pain and burn and agony was everywhere at once and his healing factor merely brought him more pain as it sealed some gasoline into his skin and veins.

But alas, the male would slice open wherever it healed, blood gushing out nonstop.

The mage never ran out of the gross, tingly, crimson substance.

It pumped from his body at max speeds, coating the floor slick and crimson, like the red river of death itself.

Within hours of this constant burning sensation and the stench of both blood and gasoline, he soon felt light-headed.

He swayed and leaned back in the chair fully, mouth limp open and breaths raggedly flushing from his flared nostrils or wide open mouth.

At some point, he felt the flames creep up his ankles, along his tattered clothes, and along the wooden splinters of the chair.

It reached up his body, like he was burning at the stake for his crimes.

But maybe, just maybe...

Maybe he was.

* * *

The video reached Stark's and the other Avenger's emails, phone numbers, and other social media in no less than five minutes after it was recorded.

Stark couldn't believe his eyes, merely watching for what felt like forever squashed into five minutes before pausing the five-hour-long video and calling up the Avengers team as soon as possible.

The barbaric Asgardian had come no later than his ringing, instantly furiously flushing into the tower and nearly yelling Stark's ears off.

"What is the meaning of this, Man of Iron!? My brother has been through enough!"

The mortal coward a bit before clearing his throat and speaking up, "Thor, that wasn't me who sent the vid buddy."

Clint appeared beside the god, looking just as displeased, if not less furious than Thor and Stark.

"Who did then?"

Nat was behind him, arm curled around his shoulders softly, perhaps as a comforting gesture, "Yes, I would also like to know who. He's been getting much better since the invasion, why is this man torturing him?"

Many shrugged in slight uncertainty, a couple staring in shock at the ground.

"It's been three years," the God roared with more anger and fury, "Who can hold a grudge that long?"

The others regarded him seriously before opting to find the God's location.

"How can we find him?"

Clint spoke softly but loud enough to be heard, "How are we gonna get the guy that's torturing him?"

Thor hummed in thought, "I'd suggest looking at the background of the video, but no one would enjoy watching such preposterous things."

Clint chuckle, trying to make a snarky joke out of the situation to lighten the mood, "If this were three years ago, I would."

Nat nodded then lightly hit him after spotting Thor's pissed off, aggressive expression, "Oi. Manners, please."

The room fell into dull silence for a moment.

Several of the Avengers couldn't figure it out.

"It was a human, no doubt, and Loki must have been missing for at least six hours, at most a day. He has to still be in New York, right?"

"Correct, Man of Iron. Unless the mortal man ordered Loki to teleport somewhere," Thor grunted but chuckled, "My brother would have killed him on the spot."

"So it was a kidnapping," Stark concluded, glancing around at the short nods and thoughtful expressions.

Within moments, however, the factual, objective air had been replaced with something emotional and dangerous.

Especially Dangerous.

Peter stepped into the room, eyes blearily reddened and tears leaping freely from his eyes.

The older male's eyes widened and he stepped forth, arms wrapping around the teen's shoulders and pulling him in close.

"M-Mr. Stark, wh-who did it? Who?"

A couple others stepped closer, off to the sidelines with their own ways of comforting and mumbled angered comments.

"I don't know, kid," Stark spoke gently and soothingly, rubbing the spider kid's shoulders comfortingly and presting his chin on brunette hair, "But we'll find him."

"H-How?"

Thor glanced up suddenly and at the mortal engineer.

"Loki's tracker!"


	3. Deserve

_I deserve this_ , Loki thought to himself, _Don't use magic and bare this out._

He was shrouded in lonely darkness, his mind running laps as he put the blame on himself.

Regret and guilt sank deep in his chest, and the newly-formed heart by the Avengers in his soul started to shatter and break.

The new man they helped to rebuild was cracking at the bandaged hems, nearly shattering with this simple form of torture.

But it wasn't the physical, it was all the mental and emotional things lashing out at his newly formed humanity.

His newly formed compassion and sympathy.

he wanted to cry out and punch himself, wanted to exit his seidr in a new form of suicide.

But who was to say he'd have enough time to think of other ways to destroy himself from the outside.

A small flare lit up the center of the room.

The man's face looked full of angst and depression.

His eyes were red and glossy with tears, narrowing with pure hatred and murderous intent.

Loki raised his own chin, trying his hardest not to smile or mock, trying not to cry, and also trying not to throw up.

Of course, he broke the latter and let the acidic vomit fly between his lips.

It landed in the still growing piles of blood on the floor, an infection probably traveling through his veins.

The mortal stared at him with shocked silence before sputtering up, "Why aren't you healing yourself? You're a god with magic!"

The mage chuckled in spite of himself, spitting the last bit from his mouth to prevent the disgust from bringing up more.

"I am a God with magic, yes. But now I am a God with emotion and sympathy that your dearest Avengers have formed in me. I do not wish to escape from this death you so haughtily wish to give me."

The mortal stayed silent, swallowing thickly and letting a couple tears leave his cheeks.

"Go on. I know you heated that blade up again," the mage spoke, biting out a quick but ragged, "Kill me," before bursting into a fit of coughing.

The man grunted and merely pulled up a frying pan.

He slammed it against the back of the mage's head.

Then all of it went black.


	4. Can't Help It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt does the most terrible things to us and eats us from the inside out.
> 
> "Guilt is to the spirit, what pain is to the body." - D.A.E.

The sky was of Thor's making, as if he had been searching for him.

A thundering storm rolled in from the far horizon, and dark blue and purple clashed along the skylines.

The mage had changed locations, a skyscraper seeming to be the best place for the mortal man to kill him.

His wrists were free, coated in red and his skin around it a sickly pale.

He noticed the mortal sitting on the edge, sharpening a blade.

The God tried to lift from the ground, kneeling in place before recognizing the familiar sense of shackles.

He was not free quite yet, this mortal was not done with him.

Not that Loki would have let him be anyway.

The silver and darkened chains flashed against his legs.

They successfully kept him kneeling, his neck heavy with a sheet of metal as well.

A metal collar chained to the ground beneath him; the shivering, cold concrete of the skyscraper.

His voice came out raspy, "Mortal, what is your name?"

The man did not respond, glancing over at him before going back to sharpen his blade.

The God licked his lips, they were chapped and dry, blood coating his bottom lip.

He spit on the concrete with slight disgust at the taste.

"Your Avengers will be here shortly. I offered them a front row seat to see you die," the man commented, but his face was far from honesty and anger.

He seemed uncertain and misled, glancing with quiet sadness at his blade.

"They have not responded to my letter. I gave them three hours."

The God let a shudder run through him, "How long was I out?"

"Not even one," the man responded.

His head throbbed painfully, was the mortal lying to him?

He couldn't tell at this point, glancing at his knees in slight confusion.

Loki could feel his seidr tugging on his soul, almost aching to be used.

On instinct, he would have charred these chains and teleported away to heal himself.

But by conscious will, he kept himself merely awake and breathing for now.

He would not take the vengeance from a suffered mortal man away from him.

Within minutes, he did not have a decision in the matter though.

A flash of thunder is all it took for him to squirm slightly and realize this man would not be alive for long.

The mortal stood up and stepped nearer, "I believe that they will take you back."

The God briskly glanced at the sword as he stepped closer, fear and angst did not dwell in his expression.

Just an understanding and sympathy for the mortal.

The grip on the long bladed weapon tightened and he instantly swung it at the mage's head.

The blade sliced right through his right shoulder, digging deep against the tendons, bone, and muscle.

Loki dared not flinch, keeping still and watching for the next strike.

A low hiss was heard, not so far away, but not too close to alarm the mortal.

The blade slipped from his skin and slashed deep into his gut, digging against his spine.

The God finally let out a grunt of displeasure and pain, his seidr hissing at him to be used to heal.

He ignored it for the moment, allowing the mortal to lash out with the blade again.

This strike slashed both his legs as well; deep, blood red gashes.

The man finally stepped back to faintly observe the damage, "You should die of an infection and blood loss before they get here..."

The mage swallowed thickly and nodded, watching the man turn and walk towards the edge of the tower.

Within moments, his body was flung off and the mage let the realization shock him to his senses again.

He watched the man fall with his seidr, but a small poof of a parachute sounded his relief.

He had not caused another death it would seem.

Except perhaps his own...


End file.
